


Mischief Never Ends

by Natsumi_Wakabe



Series: Baby Sitting in Middle Earth [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Babysitting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 13:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natsumi_Wakabe/pseuds/Natsumi_Wakabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The twins baby sit Legolas. Their parents really should have known better. After all, bad things come in threes, especially when paint and boredom are involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mischief Never Ends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NCIS Elf](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=NCIS+Elf).



> So, this is for a fellow writer that inspired me. So, thanks NCIS_Elf.

The Halls of Mirkwood were terribly bare. Normally, this was not a concern of the Elrondion twins. Being that they hailed to Imladris, Last Homely House, and were expected to "conduct themselves in a manner befitting their station and blood" whenever in Mirkwood, the walls normally did not concern them. In fact, since they'd (finally) reached their majority, any time spent in Mirkwood involved partying, hunting or helping to cut down on the local spider and orc population. However, on the journey to the realm of Elven King Thranduil Oropherion, their group had been ambushed by the spiders, wounding several, including Elladan.  
So now, instead of being part of the hunting parties, both twins were haunting the halls, trying desperately to alleviate the boredom that came with being well enough to be out of bed, but not healed enough to hunt.  
Which is why they'd been given the task of baby sitting the little elf prince of the realm, Legolas.  
And whoever decided that it was a good idea to given them such a duty was going to be thrown in a dungeon somewhere dark with the sound of a manic laugh as their only company.  
It wasn't that they didn't enjoy looking after a child. They loved it, had loved spending time with children since they'd looked after their little sister when she was younger. But Legolas, he was something else. He was forever running around, wanting to be outside, climbing trees, getting lost in the voices of the forest and being entirely too active. He exhausted the twins, and on their fourth day watching him, they decided that if they could not get him to calm down, they would use that energy to get back at those that had forced the princeling upon the two of them.  
"Nothing dangerous," Elrohir started, glaring at his twin.  
"Of course," Elladan agreed. "I wouldn't dare to put him in danger. Do you doubt me so much, brother mine?"  
"There was that one time with Arwen-"  
"You promised to never bring that up again!" groused Elladan, sending his twin a wounded pout. "Besides, how was I to know that Erestor made it a habit to keep a knife on him at all times?"  
"Because we've made him be ready to cut his hair any time? Especially after our 493 birthday with that dough and tomato incident."  
"So what should we do?" Elladan asked, moving the conversation away from Things To Never Be Spoken Of. "I doubt he'll be willing to do something mundane like throw Thranduil's paperwork around."  
"Maybe... maybe..." Elrohir got a somewhat distant look in his eyes, as he scoured the recesses of his memories, trying to drag up something that would not get any of them into too much trouble, but would also ensure that no one would ever think that making them baby sit again would ever be a good idea. As they contemplated what to do, they opened the door to Legolas's room, where the sight of a little elfling armed with a myriad of art supplies gave way to evil grins and more evil thoughts.  
________________________________________  
The day had been too quiet. Despite the fact that negotiations and talks with the mercurial tempered Silvan elf king, Elrond knew that something was off. There had been no interruptions from his twins, no giggles of an elfling as he ran from his appointed guardians. Indeed, as he watched the door with the growing feelings of trepidation and worry, he knew that this was the calm before the storm. Still, he said nothing, knowing that where his sons were concerned, there was little to stop them from doing whatever foolish thing they had decided until Elrond was able to catch them in the act.  
So when a recess was finally called, Lord Elrond was only barely able to retain his dignity and not run out the doors to find what mischief it was that his offspring had gotten into this time.  
And oh, what he found.  
The moment that he stepped into the halls, he was hit by a wall of color. All around him, there were horrendous depictions of elves (notably himself, Erestor, Thranduil, and Glorfindel) as well as random stick figures with names written above their heads. There were also a few childishly drawn butterflies closer to the bottom as well as rainbows and smiley faces. These "works of art" covered the halls, and glistened in the low lighting, proving that his idiot sons were still the same risk takers that they had been back home. Raising a hand to his mouth in order to keep the laughter at bay, he stood there in the doorway, uncaring of the other elves that came up behind him.  
Thranduil raised an eyebrow at what he came upon after moving around Elrond. "I see your sons have been remiss in their art classes."  
Elrond bit his lip to keep from barking out laughter, but his shoulders shook ever so slightly under the strain.  
"Any idea where they'd be?"  
"Oh, I can imagine," Elrond replied before heading off down the halls.  
________________________________________  
Meanwhile, in the kitchens, three elves were enjoying a small victory feast at having conquered the halls and their boring colors of grey stone. The littlest of them had paint smeared up his sleeves and on his face, his shirt and trousers having been lost as well, though his hands had been washed. The twins were little better, all of them having decided to have an impromptu paint war toward the end of their decorations. However, as they all munched happily on the leftover muffins from the morning meal, the three of them all were content and innocent of the messy fun they'd indulged in only moments before.  
Which is why when Lord Elrond and King Thranduil descended upon the kitchens, they were caught completely unaware and unprepared.  
"Hello my sons. I trust you had a good day with our little prince." The three of them froze, eyes instantly pulled to the two imposing figures in the door.  
"Ada!" Elladan squeaked, smile strained as he took in the displeased posture and face of his father. "How are the negotiations going?"  
"Well enough." Elrond took a step in the room, making both twins rise from their seats, legs tense and ready to bolt. "But I do believe they would be going even better if there was a lack of distracting images that now plague the halls."  
"Whatever do you mean, ada?" Elrohir asked, body turning ever so slowly toward the exit behind them.  
"What he means, Elrohir Elrondion, is that it seems we have some vandals in my halls. Vandals that will have to be taken care of very soon." Legolas looked between the adults, feeling that he should keep quiet, so that no one noticed him as the elders advanced toward the three offspring, a dangerous glint in their eyes.  
"And I think you know what that means, sons of mine."  
The twins gave nervous laughs, before suddenly lunging toward the door, Elladan scooping up Legolas on their way out.  
"Should we chase them?" Thranduil asked, one elegant eyebrow raised as he watched them stumble over themselves in their haste to escape cleaning duty and punishment.  
"No. They will return soon enough, and if we chase them, then we will all be tired. Besides, I do believe that you have guards to do the dirty work for us."  
Booming laughter filled the kitchen, as two fathers decided to commiserate together over the exhausting mischief of children.


End file.
